In the Name of Eternal Love
by Walter William Safar
Since you have left, my one and only,
the sun became perfectly cold.
Its golden heart,
completely forgotten, lies in the golden cradle:
Oh, Lord, the sun is so cold,
it wrapped itself around my heart,
like a vampire’s golden claw.
Its cold fingers of gold
are ripping off parts of my heart
and throwing its bloody food at death’s feet.
I am looking for the shadow to save me,
the same shadow
in which you used to read my poems,
whose verses were so touching and yearning,
so perfectly life-like and human
when your soft voice sent them on their way to people’s hearts.
If I knew that I’d touch the sky with my verses
and revive you
to warm my cold heart,
and the entire cold world around me,
I would agree at once to brand my verses with my own blood.
But the sun is still so cold
and shining like gold:
cold and deadly blinding;
They say that the night,
the dark night,
is the right place for dying,
but you know, my one and only,
that this is not true,
because you left me when the sun shone at its brightest,
and when the golden stream murmured across the white heavenly fields
gilding our verses.
Oh, Lord, death in a golden dress must be so noble,
when it takes the soul to meet the angels.
You know, my one and only,
that our verses
that joined us with an unbreakable brace of love and immortal memories,
these dear and painfully lively verses are my only link to you now.
While solitude whips me, I voice myself in our verses
into the sky,
to approach you
so closely as to hear your voice
when you read our verses to angels.
While the present haunts me to the past,
I am chasing my spirit towards the golden cradle
to become a blood brother to the newborn verse,
because my end is near;
They say that the night,
the dark night,
is the right place for dying,
but my place is on the golden hearse,
right next to the golden cradle,
right next to the newborn verse,
when the sun is at its warmest and brightest,
when the sun’s golden hearts is lively ticking in fiery breasts –
so that death may await me in the golden cradle,
like you, my one and only,
so that we may sow our verses
along white heavenly fields:
because it cannot be any other way,
it should not be any other way
in the name of eternal love.
Copyright ©: Walter William Safar
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The End
And that’s the End of the Poem
© Poetry Monster, 2021.
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